


Adoration

by ChocoNut



Series: Many ways to say I love you [72]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: After the TBTWP, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode 4, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Missing Scene, Season 8, The bang that we were deprived of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:06:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24789709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: Sometime after they sleep together, Brienne stands before the mirror, examining her modest breasts.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: Many ways to say I love you [72]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1234904
Comments: 6
Kudos: 133





	Adoration

Brienne stared at the woman looking back at her from the mirror, her eyes dropping to her bosom when she subconsciously relived the fateful moment he had mocked her meagre teats, comparing them in the most condescendingly bitter way to a man’s. 

She brushed a fingertip to her left nipple. It still felt sore, an after-effect, she recalled with a blush, of their wild fucking and his newfound interest in her breasts last night. For a man who once had nothing but the foulest words of criticism to shower on every part of her body, how in the name of the seven did Jaime come to lavishing such attention and ardent adoration on them last night? Perhaps, it was an aftermath of his reckless drinking. Perhaps--

Her train of thoughts went astray when, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed him stir, and barely seconds later, he was behind her, his god-like naked form, the growing need between his legs, distracting her, inviting her to invite him back to the realm where nothing but their union and their pleasure mattered.

His arms curved around her waist and he pulled her close. “Can’t sleep, wench?” Her back twitched, a strange sensation of burning heat and a cold shiver, both in a blissfully engaging dance, erupting within her, when her smooth skin rubbed against the coarse hair on his chest. “It’s not even dawn yet. Come back to bed,” he breathed down her back, his voice, a cup of soothing warm milk to keep the cold at bay.

Despite his intervention, when she was still transfixed with her reflection, he pressed his lips to the nape of her neck. “What are you looking at?”

“My breasts,” she mumbled, embarrassed at the modest size of them. “They’re--” 

His hand inched upwards, closing around her left breast, cupping it, then letting it go after a squeeze, the blistering passion in his fleeting touch rattling her mind out of its sanity and uprooting, from their very foundation, the rest of what she was about to say. “What about them, hmm?” he whispered, letting his fingers have a free way around her body up the curvy path to her nipple. They lingered around, nudging away with abandon and teasing her, capturing the taut tip, giving it a light roll with a little prod to follow it, reminding her of the torture he’d inflicted on them. 

“They are--” _meagre and I can’t imagine how any man could, possibly, be attracted to them,_ she wanted to say. “Are you--” _still intoxicated like you were last night, only half in your senses,_ she wanted to add, but her musings, instead of parting with her lips as coherent words, found their escape in the form of a helpless sigh, clouding the glass before her as she fell back into him, the hard pink buds of her nipples, aroused and protruding, one at his mercy and the other begging for his attention.

“I am--what?” he prompted, but before she could answer, he wheeled her around in his arms. By the time she had gathered her thoughts again, it was too late. He was kissing her hard on the mouth, his tongue thrusting between her lips, tasting her, biting her, laying bare his desire to ravish her like he had done last night. “What were you saying, wench?” he asked, pulling back to allow her a moment to breath.

“I was trying to tell you that--” she began again, but when he began kissing down her neck, she lost the will to explain. Pressing into his embrace, she dragged her hands down his front, feeling his cock already raging hard, wanting more - more than last night, more than they’d both ever wanted. His hand grabbed at her, hungrily groping her again, his stump inching down her middle, stopping at her groin, his breath hot on her neck, his mouth, lavishing her teats with the attention they craved. 

“Yes, wench?” His mouth was liquid fire, sucking and feasting on one of her erect nipples, his tongue, the edge of the flame. His fingers were on a quest of their own, tweaking and plucking at its mate. “I’m listening.” His words gushed over her, penetrating her chest and filling her with a deep heat. “Go on.”

“Jaime--”

Jaime spun her back around and bent her against the dressing table, and she was forced to stop short of expressing her mind, pushing her hips into him to meet his cock, every nerve in her twitching with excitement to begin a new ride with him. Stripping her body of all sensations but his touch, he began grinding against her arse, and a heavily loaded, “ _oh,_ ” was all she had for him, that modest expression summarising everything she felt at that moment, her unbearable need to have him recreate last night’s magic rising several notches when he took her from behind.

“Jaime.”

Haunting her mind, her heart and her lips was just this one name, this one body when he went all the way in, what began as a gentle push swiftly escalating to a panting, hectic desperation to be one with her. Harsh sounds and uninhibited growls, she could feel, in her ears, in her skin when he picked up pace, driving her hard against the cold surface beneath her, the cool solid sensation a drastic contrast to the molten heat inside her. 

_Jaime,_ she tried to mouth, to speak out his name, but a whimper it turned into, when he dragged her someplace where the past, the present and the future came together, none of it making sense, yet, all of it, perfectly believable.

His aggressive pounding began to get feverish and so did his gasps, his vigorous thrusts building up, binding her to him then letting go, her aching cunt devouring his eager cock, her body absorbing his sighs, his lustful screams, his muffled chants of her name. His stump pinning her to him, his hand crawled up to her breast, stroking her again, fondling her, every press of his finger, every little nudge and tease of her nipple, telling her how much he adored and desired her.

“I love you, Brienne,” he huffed into her back, his mouth trailing down her skin, lips parted open, tongue soaking in her sweat. There was no need to look into his eyes to know how he felt. She could feel the words, the emotions in them trickling into the core of her being, penetrating her soul.

Last night, they were a pair of drunken lovers, fucking, the only thing on their minds. And she had failed to come to terms with the depth of it. Nor did she realize it when he had held her hand at the feast, making an attempt at sweet nothings as against the insults he usually tossed her way. Or at every instance they had met and parted across the years. But now, it was clear and evident and thrusting itself from the deepest confines of her heart to where she could perceive it freely.

She could admit it, at last, that life went beyond her loyalty to Sansa. She could allow herself this happiness. She could--

_Oh, gods._

Such was the impact he had on her, so deep, her agony, so intense, her pleasure when he struck her just right, that she had to stifle a loud scream. Showing no mercy, he reached around, his fingers descending between her legs, stroking her until it made her jolt and squirm, gently, roughly, up and down, pressing and massaging her. She arched back into him and swayed her arse against his balls, meeting his passion, his pace, his rhythm, wondering if she was doing it right, anxious that her inexperience might let them down. Closing her eyes, she traced her fingers down her front, cupping her breasts to make up for the lack of his hand and mouth on them. She shifted her hips to let him in deeper, sobbing out a soft moan when he pushed back into her, hoping her unladylike sounds wouldn’t wake the castle. 

She bit down on her lip, enjoying the rush of arousal that swelled up inside her, enjoying him. A virgin shunned by men all along, she’d never been touched like this, never been kissed, never felt loved. And this was… this was beyond overwhelming. It was the world.

_Jaime._

She let her mind drift with her release.

_He loves me._

She burst out into a strangled cry, at last, unable to hold back when she found herself melting, the sensation similar to, yet unlike her surrender to him last night.

_He wants me… wants this with me..._

With a grunt behind her and a hoarse shout of her name, he cut loose inside her, the surge of his climax, the rushed flood of his seed inside her, telling her just one thing…

_Life is more… It is this… Him..._

Kisses were all she knew after that, sweet and tender, warm enough to keep her comfortable for the rest of this winter. And his cock, embedded deep within her, limp, yet, satisfied. And his stump-arm securely chained around her waist. And his fingers, slowly creeping up her midriff to meet her chest again.

“You never quite finished what you were saying,” he mischievously reminded her, his hand nestled between her breasts, readying for another round of playing with them, when she turned around in his arms to face him. “What were you telling me before we--”

“I love you, Jaime.”

Pulling him closer, she kissed him. In his eyes, she was a beauty, and he admired her, adored her body, mind and all of her.

He loved her. Everything else felt insignificant.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it. Thank you so much for reading :)


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